


Worm

by alli_ambroise



Category: Dexter's Laboratory
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Dexter/Mandark - Freeform, Headhopping, M/M, Mandark/Dexter - Freeform, Oneshot, POV Experimental, dexdark, random POV shifts, references fusionfall elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alli_ambroise/pseuds/alli_ambroise
Summary: Dexter's Computer is infected with a virus. With no other option, he asks his rival to fix it.Corporate-like AU with Fusionfall references. Dexdark, Dexter/Mandark, Mandark/Dexter.
Relationships: Mandark Astronomanov/Dexter
Kudos: 5





	Worm

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by Momentum, a Yu-gi-oh fanfic by Regann. It was originally meant to be a Fusionfall fic before it morphed into a Corporate AU with Fusionfall references. I do not claim to be a virus expert and this isn’t how viruses work or get fixed, but this is also Dexter’s Lab, so please suspend your disbelief at the door.
> 
> This is only meant to be a one-shot and won't be continued. At this time, I am not taking concrit unless it's a clear grammatical or spelling error, however, general comments are welcome. Sorry I don't update much...I've been having kind of a rough couple years. Best wishes and thank you for checking this out.

_You can't rush genius._

While Dexter was not one to subscribe to feel-good motivational quotes, if he were to adopt a philosophy, it would be that you can't rush genius. Given enough time, there was no mystery that couldn't be uncovered, no problem that he couldn't solve. As he teetered on the edge of sleep deprivation and complete mental exhaustion, in the dark recesses of his mind a single spark would alight. An idea. Eureka. There it would be - the answer, scintillating in perfect clarity that he grasped with both hands and yanked to himself in delirious relief. This excruciating process would repeat itself as his problems became increasingly complex, but always the solution would reveal itself to him. All he needed was patience.

Unfortunately, the Board members of DexLabs made it clear that time was in short supply. Never would he have imagined the deluge of work that had followed after he started his business. Once his company had been established, his time had quickly been eaten away by board meetings, compliance and safety reporting, and financial reviews. Dexter was accustomed to working at his own pace, releasing inventions at his leisure, and was certainly not fond of being beholden to production deadlines that, more often than not, demanded quantity over quality.

The latest shareholder meeting had been particularly unpleasant. Mandark Industries had captured a significant portion of the market share and was gaining fast on DexLabs, projecting doubled growth in the next quarter. In the ensuing market panic, their stock prices moved inversely to one another - $DXL dropping 10% while $MDI had skyrocketed by 20%.

Reporters accosted him with questions. _Can we get a time frame on the release of your newest invention? What are you plans to counter Mandark Industries in the coming months and boost revenue?_

Standing behind the wooden podium in his stiff blue suit and tie, with journalists giving him barely an inch of space to breathe, Dexter had been at a complete loss for words. For a few moments he found himself blinking idiotically in the blinding camera flashes and inwardly berating himself for not bringing Computress to this particular meeting.

He had scarcely managed a terse _No comment_ before making a hasty retreat. When he was out of sight of the reporters, he had broken into a run and didn't stop until he was locked behind 3 inch thick titanium doors, safely tucked away in his small corner of peace in this increasingly corporate world.

* * *

His muscles ached with fatigue, and he was straining his eyes to read the screen, but he continued unheeded. His mind was locked in a trance that transcended the pitiful cares of this reality, dealing only in numbers and higher analytical thought processes that none of his insipid Board members could ever hope to understand. His body was a mere conduit for his genius, a tool to be used to achieve greater ends.

A pop up at the bottom right hand corner of his screen caught his eye, and he passed over the warning briefly before dismissing it. Computer was more than capable of handling it. He did not pause to think of where this virus had come from, too engrossed in his work to care.

Lines of logic filled his vision once more, and his fingers were flying over the keyboard and creating life itself. For this was not merely a program, no simple software. This would revolutionize everything anyone thought they knew about Artificial Intelligence.

Ha, even Mandark would be in awe of him after this-

His fingers came to a sudden halt, like a gear jammed in a machine. The white cursor blinked back at him.

"Dexter?" Computress called. The blue robot wheeled over to him, her expression imitating concern. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Computress," he waved at her dismissively, "just taking a break."

He wasn't thirsty, but he took a sip from his water cup anyway.

It was not the first time that his work had been interrupted, but even DeeDee had been locked out of his laboratory for weeks now. Yet somehow in the confined sanctuary of DexLabs, Mandark still found ways to get under his skin that even DeeDee could not replicate. He knew his rival was out there, scheming from his perch in the high tower of Mandark Industries. Mandark was always trying to outdo him - though unsurprisingly, he would often fall flat in his attempts. The result was a product line that were essentially carbon copies of Dexter's inventions - albeit for lower prices. Mandark Industries had managed to capture a sizable portion of the market share with its cheap imitations, making a significant dent in DexLab's revenue. His legal team had been pushing for a lawsuit, but Dexter was in no mood to enter prolonged litigation with his rival - he could barely stand an hour long meeting with his concerned Board, let alone a trial that could go on for months without respite.

He shook his head and turned back to his work with renewed vigor, pushing all thoughts of business from his mind. There was science to be done.

As he reconciled nested if statements in an intricate line of logic, the syntax was flowed down from his mind to his fingertips. Even typing at over 200 words per minute, his fingers just barely kept up with the firing of his neurons in his brain, going off like cannons one after another after another…

The screen went blank.

There was a delay in his reaction, his fingers obediently typing his last command before halting, poised over the keyboard like a puppeteer manipulating strings on a marionette. For a brief moment, Dexter stared at his stunned expression in the reflection of the blank screen, his tired eyes staring back at him, sunken from lack of sleep. With a scowl, he jammed his finger onto the power button.

Nothing happened.

A harsh, almost guttural, growl came from the back of his throat. "Computress, what is going on?"

Computress wheeled over to Dexter. "It would seem that a virus has temporarily infected our server. I notified you of it earlier."

"Yes, yes, I saw," He said, trying to keep his irritated tone in check. "Did you not quarantine it?"

"I did," She answered, perfectly pleasant despite Dexter's frustration. "However, it appears to have escaped."

"Escaped? How is this possible?" Viruses did not escape quarantine. They stayed there until a time where Dexter or Computress could find the infected file and purify it.

"I'm not certain," She gave an uncharacteristic _hmm_ of worry. "If you'd like, I can force start your computer and bring it back to the last system restore point. Though there will be a rollback in the system."

Dexter considered this. "How far would the rollback be?"

"Approximately 30 minutes, Dexter."

Inwardly, he cursed to himself. It would undo the bulk of his programming, he would need to recreate literally hundreds of lines of code. But there was little other choice he had in the matter - his project was equally useless locked behind a non-functioning computer.

"Very well," he sighed. "Initiate the system restore."

"Yes, Dexter." Computress' eyes glowed white for a moment, as she connected wirelessly to his computer.

Dexter swiveled back in his chair and watched the DexLabs splash screen appear. A command window of his screen appeared, with an older version of the code he had been so painstakingly working to complete.

"Run another system scan," he minimized the command window so only his desktop was showing. "Find the origin of this rootkit. We will simply have to deal with the file right now."

"Yes, Dexter," she replied obediently.

On the screen, a progress bar was shown, along with a magnifying glass that wheeled in a little circle. File names were populating below the screen faster than even his eyes could read.

A high pitched alert sound emitted from his speakers, making him wince.

The screen flickered, in a way that he had never seen before. It seemed as though a wave was rolling up through it, distorting the graphics, stretching out, then compressing the DEXLABS logo beyond recognition.

"What was that?" He demanded, getting out of his chair. But when he turned to look at Computress, her eyes were flickering.

"I've found the - infected - folder," her voice was distorted, hitching unnaturally between words. "I'm afraid...I cannot -"

Her voice cut out, and her eyes flickered off. Her arms slumped to her sides, and she remained perfectly motionless.

Dexter slammed his fist on the keyboard, making his desk rattle. He turned to the computer screen. Computress, in her final moments, had pulled up the folder that was the root of all of this trouble. It did not surprise him in the least, of course, when he read the folder's title.

"Of course," he growled. " _Mandark_."

* * *

If Dexter's motto was _You can't rush genius_ , Mandark's was _Time is money._

At the moment, Mandark was sitting through yet another meeting with Frankie. She had spunk, he had to admit, the way she fought for her ideals and stood up to the Mandark Industrial Representatives - all of whom were formidable and brilliant, handpicked by Mandark himself after a long series of interviews. She reminded him of another fiery redhead who refused to back down to him.

After hearing rumors that Dexter was planning to expand research in the AI sector, he knew that the investment would be well worth it in the long run if he could beat Dexter to the punch. So, he had made a deal with Frankie to buy rights to the Imaginasium.

As Frankie went on and on about the (supposed) flaws in his design, he worked away on his laptop. She could filibuster for as long as she wanted, he would get what he wanted in the end. After all, she had already signed a contract that had effectively given him eminent domain over the Imaginasium. People were always so stupid when it came to signing things without reading them - and Mandark had ensured the contract was air-tight and legally binding.

An e-mail notification at the bottom right of his screen popped up. Normally he would pay it no mind, but the name of the sender caught his eye.

[dexter@dexlabs.com](mailto:Dexter@dexlabs.com)

**RE:** _Your stupid virus_

Mandark,

Come to my lab now

**Dexter McPherson**

**CEO, DexLabs**

Mandark frowned. Virus? He drummed his fingers on the keyboard, trying to remember. He hadn't sent anything to Dexter for some time now, they did not really communicate online. It had been months since Dexter had even shown himself in the community - for the past quarter he had been sending Computress as his proxy for business meetings and public events.

Ironically, these times were when Mandark Industries became its most productive. With the relatively lessened pressure from DexLabs, he had been able to expand many of his sectors and dominate the market while Dexter closed himself off. Then, Dexter would emerge and suddenly the inventions would come pouring out one after another, and their rivalry would begin anew. It was a cyclical relationship, one that had gone uninterrupted since the dawn of their companies.

A vague paranoia flickered in his mind, wondering if this was some trick, but he pushed it aside. The urgency of Dexter's e-mail intrigued him. What virus had bested his rival's famous Computress?

He closed the lid to his laptop and tucked it away into his briefcase.

He gave a curt nod to his Executives as he exited. They were more than capable of handling Frankie without him.

* * *

The halls of DexLabs were quiet as he passed down the sterile, white corridors. Dexter had always had an obsession with making everything white, it was so bright that it burned his eyes just from the sight of it all. White building, white floors, white walls…it was like walking through an insane asylum.

DexLabs…More like Dex-Loony Bin. He laughed inwardly at his own joke. Population: Dexter.

Though it had been months since he had last visited, Mandark navigated the halls with ease. He knew exactly where Dexter would be - locked away in the innermost recesses of DexLabs. Unlike Mandark, Dexter would burrow himself underground like the lab rat he was. Mandark preferred the open skyline, and he had purposely built Mandark Industries to be a masterpiece of engineering and architecture that towered over the city.

Mandark paused at the entrance to Dexter's laboratory. The titanium door was riddled with post-it notes.

"Dexter, when you receive this, please give us a call immediately," one said. It was dated for three months ago. Mandark snorted. Had it really been that long since Dexter's appearance at the first quarter shareholder meeting? He hadn't been present at that particular event, but had made sure to save the video of Dexter's deer-in-the-headlights look in 1080P and the embarrassed flush that had adorned his face as he stammered out _No comment_ and literally ran away from the cameras. If Mandark ever found himself with leisure time, he would pull it up and get a good laugh out of it.

Judging from the look of the security panel, multiple attempts had been made to try and force the door open. The number pad was scratched in several places, and the 4 was caved in. Shaking his head in disappointment, Mandark took out his smartphone and scanned the panel with a descrambler app of his own making. In just under a minute, the security pad flashed green and gave a merry ding. Child's play.

The door slid open with ease. In the center of the room he could see the heart of the nano research facility, sitting like a pulsating egg that was just about to hatch. He could hear rifling in the back of the room, and what sounded like angry muttering.

Mandark made his way around the bulky nano-research facility. Dexter was on his hands and knees, faced away from Mandark. He appeared to be hooking up ethernet cables to a dial-up modem. For a moment Mandark simply watched, amused at seeing his rival in such a vulnerable position.

"Having connectivity issues, Dex?" He asked with a smirk.

Dexter whirled around. He dropped the cables immediately and stood up, crossing his arms. "I see you received my message."

"I did," Mandark said. "DexLabs must have fallen on hard times indeed, if you are using dial-up for your e-mails."

Dexter scowled. "It was my only option, thanks to your virus. All other forms of communication were knocked offline."

"You know, Dexter, there's this revolutionary form of communication where two people meet face to face and chat - oh wait," Mandark snapped his fingers. "we're doing that right now."

He could see Dexter's cheeks puff out in a small pout. "I've lost too much time already. If you're not going to help me, then you can leave."

"Oh, I didn't say I wouldn't help you. All employees of Mandark Industries pride themselves on their commitment to highest quality customer service, yours truly included,” Mandark said, “But my time is valuable, and I'll require compensation for it, especially if it's something as rudimentary as IT Support."

Dexter glared. "Fine," he said. "Once the servers are back online, payment shouldn't be an issue."

"Excellent," Mandark Industries wasn't particularly low on cash flow, but there was a deep satisfaction in sending DexLabs outrageously high invoices. “And I’ll just need one more thing.”

“What now,” Dexter said flatly.

“If you're going to enlist my help, it needs to be a formal request."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll take a verbal request," Mandark's grin widened. "You know, something like ' _Help me Mandark, you’re my only hope'_."

“You’re not serious,” Dexter stared at him, incredulous.

“Standard company policy, Dex,” Mandark said, crossing his arms smugly. “Can’t have a contract with you if you don’t communicate a clear and distinct performance obligation for me to fulfill.”

“I e-mailed you,” Dexter said, aghast.

“You wrote, and I quote ‘Come to my lab now’,” Mandark said, “Which could be interpreted very broadly. You could be asking me to come over for any number of reasons, although the fact that you sent it after business hours and in the evening gives rise to certain...connotations.” He let his voice drop an octave at the last word, relishing the way Dexter’s eyes widened.

“Fine,” Dexter growled more than spoke. "Help me get this stupid virus out of my system."

Intransigent as ever.

"Good enough," Mandark smiled his cheshire cat smile. Mandark walked over to Dexter's desk and laid his briefcase on the table, pulling out his laptop. He flipped the laptop to tablet mode, folding the screen neatly over the keyboard and clicking it into place.

"Sign here," he held out the tablet and stylus expectantly. Dexter took both with a wary glance, scrolling through the contents on the page.

He knew Dexter would examine every word the contract, so he had purposely made it as arduous to read as possible - filling it to the brim with legalese and business jargon that even an educated lawyer would have trouble parsing.

"Is this how much you charge all of your customers?" Dexter asked, eyes narrowed as he regarded the billing table.

"Like I said, Dexter," Mandark leaned against the desk with a smug smile. "My time is valuable." In truth, he had raised the prices on Dexter's contract quite a bit from the usual going rates. They _were_ competitors, after all.

Dexter gave a sigh, then scrawled his signature onto the contract. Mandark took back the tablet and tucked it away in his briefcase once more.

As Dexter began booting up his computer, Mandark experimentally shoved on Computress' arm. She did not respond, but her body slid backwards on its wheels.

"Don't touch her." Dexter snapped, looking up from his keyboard.

"It's creepy," Mandark said. "I can't work with her staring like that."

Annoyed, Dexter marched up to Computress and turned her around so that she was no longer facing the desk. "Better?" He snapped.

"Just…put her somewhere we can't see her." Mandark said. Dexter glared at him, and for a second he thought that he was going to snap at him again. Instead, Dexter grit his teeth and sighed, wheeling Computress out of sight.

 _He must really need my help._ Mandark mused to himself as Dexter marched back and logged into his computer.

The monitor was flickering, the splash screen of DexLabs distorting temporarily before it resumed its normal resolution. Nothing happened.

"I fail to see what the problem is?" Mandark said.

"This," Dexter tapped a key. Immediately, a file explorer window opened. Intrigued, Mandark watched as every file was systematically highlighted down the list. Once it finished, another file explorer opened and the process repeated.

"It won't stop," Dexter said, sounding uncharacteristically defeated as he leaned against the desk, facing Mandark. "Unless I turn it off. And I can no longer access my command line."

Mandark clicked his tongue. "Well, at least that gets rid of my first suggestion to try turning it on and off again." Dexter gave him a withering glance.

"Move aside, Dexter," Mandark strode over to the computer with businesslike authority. Reluctantly, Dexter took a small step to the side, allowing Mandark free reign of the terminal.

"Hmm.." Mandark was trying to bring up the command window, to no avail as the virus continued working away.

"I already tried that," Dexter said irritably. He was starting to wonder if this was a bad idea. Mandark was looking just as puzzled as he had been, the way his lips were pursing, curled into a frown.

"I'll have to port in," Mandark retrieved a thumb drive from his pocket, a sleek black rectangle with the crimson red initials of Mandark Industries inscribed on the top. He spied a USB Port next to Dexter's hip.

In his casual motion, Mandark brushed against Dexter's shoulder. The accidental contact was brief, but it was time enough for Dexter to feel a shock, running up his shoulder and freezing him in place. He was acutely aware of Mandark's bangs tilted down ever so slightly as he leaned forward.

He caught his eyes as Mandark paused, mid-reach. Suddenly the laboratory air seemed to close around them, and Dexter could swear that even in the deep quiescence of the laboratory he could hear his heartbeat. Yet just as quickly as the moment came it passed, and Mandark had slid his flashdrive into the port and turned back to the keyboard.

"So," Mandark said, busying himself with the keyboard. "How did this happen?"

Dexter recovered from his daze, now entering into their normal banter. "Aren't you supposed to know? It's your virus."

"I'm not even certain if this is mine."

"Who else could have made it?" Dexter asked, annoyed.

Mandark resisted the urge to smile - it was one of those rare slip ups where Dexter verged on admitting they were intellectual equals. He logged Dexter’s expression of outrage away for future use.

Aloud he said, "As much as I enjoy tormenting you, Dexter, I've been far too preoccupied with board meetings. I haven't even sent you so much as an e-mail since you started your little vacation 4 months ago."

"I have not been on vacation," Dexter snapped. "I've been working."

"And in that time, you've missed the second quarterly financials, your latest earnings report - which was dismal, by the way - " Mandark rattled off DexLabs' failings one by one, "Oh…and your Herfindahl Index has taken a nose-dive. Thanks to me."

"I've got science to do, I'm far too busy to concern myself with things of that nature," Dexter said sourly. The mention of the earnings report was bringing the memory of the last shareholder meeting to the surface of his mind, and he was in no mood to revisit it. Especially not with Mandark.

"Things like the financial health and well-being of your own company?"

Dexter's mouth snapped shut when he could find no reply. Instead he crossed his arms and said, "I'm not paying you to chit-chat about business, Mandark."

Mandark rolled his eyes. "Then give me some idea of what happened so I can start. Unless you’d like to be stuck together all day with me?” he added, eyes glittering with poorly disguised mirth.

"It's a rootkit," Dexter said tersely. "Computress put it in quarantine this morning."

"That's a start," Mandark said, turning back to the terminal and pulling up his own command terminal. "And you have no idea where it came from?"

"No," Dexter said.

"Didn't open any e-mails? Unauthorized downloads? _Unsavory_ websites?"

"No," Dexter said irritably, feeling his face heat up at the last suggestion. "I was working on a project. Computress located and quarantined a virus as I worked, and it supposedly," Dexter raised his two hands in sarcastic air quotes, “escaped.”

A distant memory seemed to flicker in the back of Mandark’s mind. He paused, considering.

"What was the file name of the folder that you quarantined?" Mandark asked, as he began rooting through the directories.

Dexter paused. "It was…'Mandark'."

Mandark quirked a brow inquisitively, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “How touching. To think I occupy a space on your hard drive.”

Dexter looked away, trying to sound nonchalant. "It's just a log. Past invasions, that sort of thing. That’s all."

“No need to be embarrassed, Dex,” Mandark said, stroking his fingers idly along the keyboard. They rattled lightly under his skin. “I have a similar one.”

Dexter looked up sharply. Mandark continued smoothly, all business, “It’s normal, after all. To keep tabs on your competitors.”

Privately, Dexter wondered exactly what kind of tabs Mandark was keeping on him. But he could find no way of asking that sort of thing organically, and Mandark would never volunteer such information anyway.

Meanwhile, directories filled and expanded the screen, and his rival turned to them. As Mandark scrolled through the files intently Dexter felt an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Thousands of data logs that he had personally entered over the years now being perused by his rival, and even though he had technically given 'permission' it still felt like a violation of privacy.

"Is this really necessary?" Dexter crossed his arms, covering up his vulnerability with impatience. "A simple search would pull it up, it is only one folder."

Mandark didn't look up from the screen. "If I did create this virus, then it would be able to detect any search attempts. It would respond by wiping the entire database, and you really don't want that. I'm guessing that's what happened earlier."

"So you have to read each file manually?" Dexter asked incredulously. "How long will that take?" He could see the exorbitant Mandark Industries Invoice already. Probably a few thousand dollars just for Mandark to read.

"Not too long, without distractions…" Mandark said, his eyes locked on the screen. "I read over 25,000 words per minute."

Dexter scoffed sarcastically. "Sure, you do."

He looked at Mandark's eyes, darting back and forth across the screen, and realized that his rival was probably telling the truth. He wondered how much Mandark could retain at that speed. Was he memorizing the entire contents of Dexter's Computer?

That probably wasn't possible, though. Not even Dexter could do that.

Finally, Mandark muttered - more to himself than to Dexter, "Found you." He switched over to the command window now, typing in long strings of code that Dexter, to his surprise, could not recognize.

"What is that? It doesn't look like C++."

Mandark was focusing on his scripting, fingers flying across the keys with impressive speed. "That's because it's not. It's my own."

"You…made your own programming language?"

Mandark shrugged. "I've never liked C++. It's counter-intuitive, the libraries are an absolute mess, and don't even get me started on the syntax. Now be quiet, I need to concentrate."

Dexter shifted in his position, curiosity getting the better of him as he leaned over to get a better look. "But what are you-"

" _Shh_ ," Mandark lifted one hand from the computer, placing an index finger delicately on Dexter's mouth. His skin was warm, pressed like a hot iron against Dexter's cool lips. It was the first human contact that Dexter had since...well, he hadn't even seen DeeDee in weeks. His question extinguished like vapor in the air.

Then Mandark withdrew his hand again to focus on the task at hand. Dexter stayed silent and watched in awe as lines populated down the screen. He was accustomed to being the creator, not the spectator. Even Computress was merely a device to do his bidding - the equivalent of a portable calculator. It occurred to him that this was perhaps one of the very few times he would ever rely on someone to do something that, for once, he was unable to do himself.

At long last, Mandark finished his programming. A progress bar appeared on the screen, along with the words Compiling source code. He had been typing without respite for a straight 10 minutes, and with a sigh he lifted up his horn-rimmed glasses with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. Subconsciously, Dexter was taking in the sight and memorizing every last detail, from the way his eyelashes fluttered to the long slender fingers gently massaging closed lids.

"You look tired, Mandark," Dexter said.

Mandark glanced at him. "You're one to talk, Dexter," He said with a smirk, pointing a finger just below his eye. "What with those giant bags under your eyes. When was the last time you slept?"

Dexter mirrored his gesture, and was surprised to feel that underneath his eyes the skin was protruding ever so slightly. "I've been…busy." He said.

"Working on your artificial intelligence project?"

"Yes…" Dexter said, suspicious. "How did you know about that?"

"I have my ways," Mandark said vaguely, glancing back at the screen. The progress bar filled up, and a new program overlaid the command window. It was minimalist in design, much like the command window it had white text on black background.

Again the lines began to populate. He crossed his arms and they again fell to silence, watching the code. Some lines of code highlighted in red, and these Mandark seemed to pay special attention to. He made a small _hmm_ ing sound at one in particular, but it scrolled up the screen too quickly for Dexter to completely comprehend its meaning.

"What is it?" Dexter asked.

"For once, it looks like you were right," Mandark said, crossing his arms and smirking. "It was mine, after all."

"You didn't even recognize it before."

"I didn't, because it's something I made 7 years ago."

"How did it get into my Computer?"

"Remember that time we shared a lab?"

Dexter nodded at the memory. They had been 10 and 12 then, and had accidentally run into each other underground. Because they had been so evenly matched, they had shared the lab space until they got fed up with each other. "I thought we had destroyed everything, since then."

"Before we did that, I managed to plant something into your computer. I couldn't risk it being caught, and I knew you would be extra vigilant after that fiasco. So I had it programmed to activate in 7 years' time," He glanced at the bottom of the right screen to look at the date. "…Which would be today."

"Hm," Dexter said. "Happy anniversary, I suppose." He had meant to sound sarcastic, but his tired voice had softened the delivery.

Mandark paused, fixing Dexter with an intense stare. "How much we've grown since then…" He murmured in a low tone that made Dexter's heart stop.

The implication of his words were not lost on Dexter. Mandark had always been tall, but he still had a good 2 inches on Dexter, even after Dexter's growth spurt had finally kicked in. He had upgraded his ridiculous bowl-cut hairstyle to one more suitable for business-professionals once their companies had been founded. Even those dorky button-down shirts had improved, no longer loosely hanging over his torso but accentuating his slender frame with their tight, tailored fit. He had traded up his shorts for dark jeans that mimicked Dexter's. A small part of Dexter's brain admitted that Mandark wore them better, the way his slim, long legs were hugged by the black fabric while Dexter's trousers had become loose and baggy with the weight he had lost.

Dexter was not usually one to have insecurities, but the way Mandark was looking him was making him aware of just how long it had been since he had looked at himself in the mirror. He would always clean up before public events or meetings, but very few people saw him in this state.

If he was worried that Mandark was evaluating his appearance, he would be right. But Mandark was not disgusted by Dexter's disheveled state - quite the opposite. He relished the way the lab coat, usually a pristine white, had a hint of grey and was stained from various experiments. Dexter's hair, naturally curly, clearly hadn't had a comb run through it in weeks, giving him a wild, mangled look that awakened a primal desire in his core.

Mandark took a calculated step towards Dexter, who stood frozen to the spot.

"You should really get some sleep, Dexter," Mandark said, reaching a hand up to cup Dexter's face. He ran his thumb along the curvature of Dexter's cheek, tilting his head up. "You look terrible…"

In any other instance, Dexter would have swatted his hand away and told him to mind his own business. But the heat emanating from Mandark's touch was giving life to the spark that had been flickering restlessly inside of him ever since their first contact.

It was not the way that Mandark tilted his head back, not the way that he cupped the back of Dexter's head with his other hand and grasped the tangle of red curls possessively. It was not even the intimate way his hips pressed against Dexter, pinning him to the desk. These were not inconsequential details, to be sure, but it was the look in his rival's eyes more than anything else that prevented him from pushing him away and kicking him out of his laboratory. Their faces were just inches from each other, he could see with perfect clarity the depth of his rival's hazel eyes, which were dark save for that erudite gleam which hinted at the vast well of intelligence beneath. And even when their eyes slipped closed, Dexter still felt dizzy with the ecstasy.

The first brush of lips was hesitant, experimental. The contrasting temperatures between their lips became less and less apparent with the increase in contact. Mandark brushed his fingers along Dexter's jawline and down his smooth neck, eliciting a delightfully sinful moan. With more force, he pressed against Dexter's lips again and was pleased to find that they had parted, allowing him full access. His searching tongue found Dexter equally eager, and as they coiled around one another, his mind had become completely numb save for that deliciously wet, warm sensation. He was dimly aware that Dexter had wrapped his hands around his waist and drawn him in closer.

The two stayed locked in each other long after Mandark's program had finished dismantling the virus.

"Dex~ter?" The sound of DeeDee's voice pierced through the laboratory, and their eyes snapped open at once.

Mandark stepped back, detangling himself from Dexter within seconds. Aside from the slight flush that was quickly fading from Dexter's pale cheeks, there was hardly any sign of what had just transpired between the two.

"DEXTER!" DeeDee came bounding up from behind the nano research facility. "There you are! I haven't seen you in months-"

She paused, her look of concern quickly replaced by one of disdain. "What are you doing here?" She asked Mandark.

"DeeDee," Mandark greeted, a smirk on his face, "You're looking radiant as ever."

He delighted in the way Dexter threw him a frigid glance.

"Gross," DeeDee said flatly.

"As it happens, I'm here for a little consulting work." Mandark grabbed his briefcase off the desk.

"Really?" DeeDee said doubtfully.

Dexter adjusted his glasses self-consciously. "Yes, DeeDee. He was just leaving."

Mandark stretched out an open palm expectantly. "My flashdrive?"

Dexter shot a glare at him, but reached down to his hips and pulled out the drive. He placed it in Mandark’s outstretched palm, and felt a jolt as a tingle of static shock passed between them. He snapped his hand back, as though burned.

"Don't worry," Mandark said, his smile widening. "You'll receive my bill for all services rendered."

At this, Dexter flushed. Looking away, he adjusted his glasses again. "...Thank you, Mandark. You may go." He said stiffly.

As Mandark exited the laboratory, he could hear DeeDee ask, "What was _that_ about?"

Only when the cool metal of the double doors closed behind his rival did Dexter deign to reply to his sister. “Nothing, DeeDee. Now, shoo, I have work to do.”

It would be a few hours before Dexter finally extricated his pest of a sister out of his laboratory, and even more time before he would return to his work. There were security protocols to follow - files to scan, passwords to change, and anti-virus software to update. In the dark witching hours of the laboratory, when not even the lab rats stirred in their cages, Dexter would finally sit back down and tackle the code once again. He would focus on the task at hand, fingers weaving numbers and words into logic statements, commands that bent to his will and did not deviate from their charted course. He would plod along at his steady pace, filling his eyes with lines of code, reflecting his thoughts back to him as the creator views his creation. He would do this, and not concern himself with the remnant thought that nestled quietly in the back of his mind, one that would not be removed with all the words and numbers the world had to offer, one that was worming its way down the path of synapses and neurons to etch itself into his memory banks, before slipping through the cracks of his cold mechanical heart to slumber in its depths, until it, too, transformed into something else entirely.


End file.
